


White Noise

by Jamaican Princess (Rocquellan)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Angst, Rough Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocquellan/pseuds/Jamaican%20Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had explained it to him once, that when a case wasn’t black and white it messed with his head, all these feelings and emotions just clamouring inside his head to try and be dominant, that right and wrong tilted on its axis and it leaves him lost inside his own head space. He said it was like the worst kind of white noise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 17.  
> I don't have a beta so concrit would be appreciated.

The clock on the wall read 2:30am.

Sam glanced from grainy, muted re-runs of ‘I love Lucy’ back to the clock over the TV every few minutes, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He couldn’t help it.

He was holed up in a cabin loaned to his dad by a grateful civilian, who got saved from a poltergeist by his dad in the past. The cabin was remote, nobody around for miles which was perfect for his dad and brother, who could walk up to the front steps in any condition without prying eyes. 

Dad had taken Dean on a hunt with him as backup. Those were always the times Sam worried the most. He had a blanket thrown over him on the couch, his features awashed by the multicolored glare from the TV and the emergency cell phone clutched in his palm like he could squeeze the ‘your brother is fine’ message out of the plastic.

They should have been back yesterday.

There was a soft thump right then and Sam sat up straight, heart fluttering against his ribcage at the noise. Would it be Dean, dad or both? Belatedly he wondered if it was a _thing_.

The key jingled in the lock and then the door swung softly open. Dean stepped into the room, his silhouette backlit by the harsh blue glow from the full moon outside before the door closed with a soft snick. Dean was rigid, his posture stiff and Sam hesitated for a fraction of a second. But only a fraction, he would know Dean anywhere. Sam’s relief at seeing his brother was almost as painful as the worry of not knowing if he was coming back to him or not. His heart did a slow somersault down from its previous staccato rhythm.

“Dean?” Sam inquired as his brother dropped everything at the door; his duffel, his jacket and his demeanor. Sam could tell something was off by the way Dean just made a B-line straight for him, both hands popping the button on his pants and pulling down his zipper.

Ok, so it was _that_ kind of hunt. The kind that meant old people or young children died. Or just undeserving innocents, and Dean had to kill them.

A werewolf, dad had said.

By the time Dean stood before him he had his rock hard cock out, looking down at Sam with equal parts haunted, lustful and sad green eyes. Sam adjusted himself on the couch so he could take his brother in one hand and stroke while the other held on to his hip. He looked up at Dean and smiled, taking in Dean’s musk. He’ll take good care of his big brother.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’ll be alright, Dean. Trust me.”

Dean made a needy sound in the back of his throat and Sam sucked him down, wrapping his mouth around that thick cock and sucking hard before pulling back and licking at the head. Dean’s body was vibrating in his arms, adrenaline making his hands twitch like they wanted to touch but held back. Dean’s fingers flexed impatiently.

Sam understood, it would get worse before it got better.

Sam did it rough, using teeth because in moments like these Dean wanted Sam to make him _feel_ , overshadowing the numbness that overtook him when he severed a too small head or blew out a good but possessed heart with silver bullets, which meant Dean got to know the person first. He stretched his mouth wide around his brother’s length, feeling the lustful, erratic vibrations against his tongue. He looked up at his big brother, whose smothering green eyes were overshadowed by the dark, literal and figurative.

Dean had explained it to him once, that when a case wasn’t black and white it messed with his head, all these feelings and emotions just clamouring inside his head to try and be dominant, that right and wrong tilted on its axis and it leaves him lost inside his own head space. He said it was like the worst kind of white noise.

Sam was on his knees on the couch, doing his best because Dean only needed to come before some of the haze lifts, before he can look at Sam with all the love and adoration he usually does. Before Dean can say _Sammy_ without any ghosts chasing it. He worked the base with the tips of his fingers, rolling Dean’s balls with his other hand because Dean loves that. 

Anything for Dean.

“Sammy...” Dean whimpered and it spurred Sam on, bobbing his head on his brother’s dick and making all sorts of filthy noise in his throat. He hummed occasionally. If Dean could just come he’d be marginally alright, and he would just get better from there.

And then Dean would make love to him like his sanity depended on it.

“Sammy...” Dean hissed after a few minutes before gripping Sam by the side of his head, soft hair spilling between Dean’s slowly tightening fingers.

“Fuck, your mouth, Sammy...”

Sam grimaced but forged on. This was for Dean, Dean needed him. His brother was wound tight. It showed in his stiff, jerky fucking of Sam’s face and his relentless fingers. The way his hips thrusted and his body moved meant Dean was getting there, would get there soon.

But this was for Dean, no matter that his brother was getting impatient and Sam was slowly choking on his brother’s dick. He planted his hands on his brother’s hips, trying to push back so he could get some air into his lungs but Dean forced his head down until the cock head stuck in his throat was leading up to a slight panic.

He needed to breathe, damnit.

Sam pushed, pushed until he got Dean to back off and he doubled over, taking in huge gulps of much needed air. Dean grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head up, causing Sam to gasp as his brother covered his mouth with his, sucking on his tongue and biting his lip in a way that fell really short of the soft kisses he was used to. But it’s what Dean needed and Sam held on while his fight or flight instincts was telling him to flee.

He’ll never flee from Dean. Ever. This would be over soon. Dean just needed to come and everything will be fine.

Sam wanted to touch his brother’s cock, to get him off but Dean grabbed his hand, wrenched it up until he was shifting his body with the movement so he wouldn’t feel like his arm was gonna break, a whimper falling from his lips. His voice hitched as he looked at his brother, face overshadowed by the pale glow of the TV light bouncing around the room. There wasn’t any sign of anything soft or warm on Dean’s face, just the evidence of after hunt energy that Sam knew equated to white noise in Dean’s head.

“Dean...” Sam gasped when he was shoved on his back on the couch and in a split second Dean was on him, roughly pulling his sleep pants and his underwear away from his body. Sam moved with Dean’s pull, realizing that Dean wanted to take him right there on the couch.

And it was ok. They had sex a lot when dad wasn’t around.

But not like this. Not. Like. This.

“Fuck, Dean...wait...”

Sam tried to push his brother off but Dean’s weight pinned him and his brother was settling between his legs in a way that let Sam feel his spit slick cock way too close to his unprepared entrance.

“Sammy...” Dean keened like he was suffocating and Sam was air.

Sam had to get Dean to think, to focus because if his brother took him dry Dean will be the one wanting to jump off a ravine when he came back to himself and realized.

“Dean, you’re hurting me,” Sam barked and it was like a switch flipped inside Dean. His brother stood stock still and Sam could see Dean’s pupils were dilated. Just how far inside his own head was he?

“Look after Sammy.”

Dean muttered lowly and Sam nodded his head, running his hands through the soft spikes of his brother’s hair.

“Get the lube and I’ll ride you.”

Sam snickered when Dean just shoved his hand under the couch and produced a small bottle of lube. When did he hide that there?

“Get to riding, Sammy.”

Well, at least Dean was a _little_ less on edge than when he just came through the door. He maneuvered them until Dean was on his back and Sam wasted no time fingering himself open, wanting to take the edge off for Dean. Dean’s breathing sped up while he watched him and when he sank down on Dean’s cock, his brother keened his name like a wounded animal. Sam felt every spasm, jerk and prostate hit jolt up his spine and fan out to each nerve endings like electricity.

“Shit, gonna make me come, Sammy,” Dean moaned breathily while he held Sam’s hips in a bruising grip, helping him ride him just how he wanted him to.

Sam blabbered incoherently while Dean’s dick repeatedly penetrated him. His legs were obscenely open and his hard dick was on display. Dean watched him with eyes so glazed it was like he was drugged on the ecstasy of their union. Dean’s fingers bruised his hips, his teeth and tongue marked his skin (below the neck, ‘cause dad...) and then he marked him with his seed deep inside, jacking Sam so hard he followed right behind.

Sam collapsed on his brother, panting while Dean sniffed his hair before throwing one hand over his eyes and holding him close with the other.

“What happened on that hunt, Dean?” Sam asked softly.

Dean sighed heavily. He didn’t need to say it, Sammy knew. 

“White noise, Sammy. Lots of white noise.”  
.  
.  
.


End file.
